


Washington in his Pocket

by 1967VivalaKITT



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 15:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14216556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1967VivalaKITT/pseuds/1967VivalaKITT
Summary: Washington is small, and has friends to help him along the way. Inspired by a Tumblr au.





	Washington in his Pocket

TW: there's death in this one, because it's a war. Nothing graphic and no major characters.

Contrary to popular belief, being the size that he is does not pose a problem when it comes to gaining command to an army. Washington had all the military tactics that he needed in his head. His even tone when speaking to a singular person was enough to make anyone cower in shame if reprimanded, or glow in happiness if recognized for a job well done. 

That being said, there are also some problems that arise when trying to raise the morale of his troops right before a battle. No one can hear him, so he usually has to shout over the crowd into the ears of either Hamilton, or Lafayette for them to tell the soldiers what he wishes to say. 

It also proves to be a challenge when Washington is in battle, because he must ride on the horse of his second in command in order to get a full survey of the action. He must also tell his ride what to yell to the army, because he cannot be heard over the booms of muskets, the neighing of horses, and the sound of men screaming in pain. Another disadvantage, is that all these noises are amplified, due to his smaller eardrums. It usually does not pose a problem, because he is usually in control of a situation.

The thunderous sounds are a problem, however, when he is thrown off a horse after it is shot and killed in the middle of the action.

He is disoriented at first, confused as to how he fell to the ground. His escourt then pulled himself out from under the horse, and tried to keep Washington safe and flee the scene. 

While previously, his head was spinning, and George was trying to get a grip on what was up and what was down, he recognized another gunshot closer than those previously. 

Soon enough, George is stranded on the ground and the boots of men scrambling away from an enemy threaten Washington.

He allows himself to panic. His moment of weakness in the enemy. Then he collects himself to survey the situation. 

He could stay in the open, hoping that someone looks down and sees him in the mud. This is unlikely, and he cannot place his own survival in the hands of chance, no matter how brave, he would not be able to fight if he was stamped on the bottom of a boot. 

Second, he runs to safety. He may be viewed as cowardly, and be called a hypocrite, as he had previously chewed Lee out for retreating. Although, after weighing out both possible options, there is one that increases the chances that he may serve the American people once more.

He ran

There were trees and bushes on the side of the battlefield where his men camped. Though they did walk here for miles, if he started soon he could hopefully get to his tent before the battle was won. The forest floor proved to be excellent cover, and Washington started off towards safety.

He stuck near the path in hopes that the battle would be won soon and the men make their way back. Then he could call someone and get a ride. But for now, America needed everyone and as much as he loathed the truth, he could not fight at his size. It was impossible to make a musket small enough for him to operate. He had a sword, but that did little damage to the outside of a leather boot. 

It began to rain. Although the men could predict it due to the dark clouds looming in the sky, no one could predict the severity of it. 

Lightning illuminated the sky. Though it was midday, the sky had previously been as dark as if it was late afternoon. The quick burst of light made Washington jump, and fall to the muddy ground, mistaking it for musket fire. Thunder roared and he covered his ears. 

Rain began to pour onto the General, and he quickly felt the cold seep into his bones. His teeth constantly clattered and he hugged his arms tightly around himself trying to preserve what little heat was left in his body. 

He turned around to see if anyone was coming. He hoped for Hamilton or Lafayette, for they were constantly viligant of his position. They always put Washington first, whether it be with rations (to which Washington would only eat what could be considered a few crumbs, and gave the rest to the too-skinny Hamilton) or sickness.

God appeared to be on his side, as he spotted Hamilton watching the ground closely, seemingly in a panic. He was following something, and Washington realized that it was his quickly washing away trail that his tiny footprints left. He stepped out into the middle of the muddy trail, and promptly fell over, exhausted.

{=}

Hamilton was in a panic. He watched the horse that carried the General to fall from afar. He could not make it to the General before he could run to safety. As happy as Hamilton was that George was taking his own safety into account, he made it much harder to ensure his safety. 

By the time Hamilton had gotten to where the horse and rider was shot down, Washington was gone. The only thing left behind was a quickly fading trail of small footprints. 

Hamilton had to follow it fast, for the rain was picking up and it could wash away the trail. He recognized the direction as the way back to camp. It zig-zagged across the field and onto the edge of the muddy trail.

Hamilton was in a frenzy when he saw Washington. He looked up just in time to see him fall. Before he could even register his legs moving, Hamilton found himself by the side of his General. 

Washington was still, and that frightened Hamilton. He gently lifted George off the ground and pulled him close to his chest. He sat there, crouched and just let his own heat begin to warm up the General.

Hamilton turned and looked back towards the warfare, and noticed just how far Washington ran. They began the battle at dawn, and it had not let up since then. Washington was yelling the whole time, using his own strength to hold on to whatever stationary thing was on the horse he was on. And after he ran what must have felt like miles to the General, along with the cold rain and mud dragging him down, Hamilton was not surprised that George collapsed.

Lafayette's voice could be heard, and suddenly the sounds of gunfire stopped. Hamilton paled. They were doing to well, picking off the British with all they could give to the cause. Had they lost?

The Frenchman could be seen from the trail, though nothing more than a shadow. 

Hamilton ran toward his friend, Washington held securely in his hands.

"What's going on?" 

Lafayette smiled. "We won." It was then that Laf noticed that Hamilton was protecting a hand in his coat, and begun to worry.

"Are you injured?"

Hamilton looked down at his hand. "No, but Washington might need medical attention," he said, bringing up the General for Lafayette to see. He used his other hand to guard him from the rain. They both shared the same look, one of worry for their commander. 

{=}

Washington woke with a headache, and he felt enveloped in something heavy. He was dazed and confused, but most of all wanted sleep. The sounds of men shouting outside kept him from that, as it only reminded him of the battle he should be fighting. 

He began to squirm to free himself from his surroundings. He only succeeded in gaining the attention of one Alexander Hamilton. 

"Be still sir, you need rest. Do not fear, we won this battle. More men survived this time than predicted, and you are ordered bedrest for your sickness."

Glad for the promptness of Hamilton, and the news he received, Washington did still, but could not rest.

"Are you in good health too, Hamilton?" He croaked, throat dry and shivers wracking his body.

"Yes I am sir, I am fortunate. I was about to get some rest, you've been asleep for the afternoon. It was recommended that you stay near a source of heat, and I cannot in good conscience leave a candle burning throughout the night. This day was a tiresome one and I know you should rest too, so I would like to know if you would possibly be comfortable sleeping on my person for the night? I do not move about much and-"

Washington had to cut him off there, already dozing off.

"Yes, now could we please get some rest?"

Hamilton nodded, not at all offended by the interruption. He gently moved to the cot from the chair he was sitting in after blowing out the candle. He slowly let himself down with his hand close to his chest. He laid down and kept his hand wrapped around the General. 

Washington was lulled to sleep by the light patter of rain on the waxed tent cover, and the deep boom of Hamilton's heart. For the first time since the war started, he felt warm and safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is my first Hamilton fic, so if there's something youd like to see in this AU just leave a comment and I'll see what I can do for you!


End file.
